The Revelation
by peteynorth
Summary: Too impatient to wait for next summer, so wrote how the big reveal of Jon's parentage might go down in Season 8. I haven't seen episode 7 of Season 7, so there are some assumptions on where things stand at the end of it.


The Revelation

Daenerys

The bitter winds, snow-sheets and icy ground crunching beneath them were endless, the arduous journey having gone on for what seemed an eternity and there appeared nothing to indicate that it would be ending anytime soon. The sleet cutting through the oppressive gray that qualified as daytime in the wintertime North made it impossible to see her two remaining children soaring above, but every so often one of them would let out a lungful screech for their missing brother, increasing the already ponderous depression they were all feeling. She had prided herself on her indomitable will, her ability to power through any hardship and persevere, but there were times, times like this right now, where the desire to give it all up and run away and find the house with the red door and hide within became great, but a quick reminder of who she was set her straight. That, and the assurances from both Ser Jorah and the King in the North riding next to her that Winterfell would be coming into view within the hour.

The Northmen placed great value in their honor, and as expected their promise proved valid. Even as the sound of her outriders' horses' hooves could be heard returning the blurred outline of the vast fortress could barely be made out through the gloom, the poor visibility actually providing reassurance as in order to be seen at all, Winterfell would have to be even closer than expected. She glanced over to the solemn King riding next to her. Or rather, former King, now Warden of the North. She had pushed so hard to have him bend the knee, initially using his ancestor's vow to hers as grounds for his submission, only to have him negate it by tying her request not to be held accountable for her father's crimes to his right not to be bound to a vow made by an ancestor. Her attempt to gain submission through courteous reasoning stymied, she had resorted to a show of superior strength to intimidate the Northern bastard of the Usurper's closest friend, but while ever respectful and acknowledging of her power over him, he would not be cowed into bending the knee. Even her attempt to scare him with Drogon had backfired, Jon Snow had not visibly flinched at all, had even stepped forward to pet her largest and most menacing dragon with a bare hand, and to her utter surprise, Drogon had seemed to take a liking to the defiant visitor. She should have been furious, but the encounter left her only curious, and oddly reassured. She had already softened to the Northerner, looking back now, it was clear that the feelings she now felt for him had firmly taken root well before that point. She laughed lightly as she gazed upon him, he finally turning toward her and smiling, it wasn't until she'd come to terms with him remaining King in the North that he'd finally sworn fealty to her, and once she'd had it, she found she no longer wanted it. He was her equal, the idea of him kneeling before her, outside of the bedroom anyway, seemed unnatural to her. The feelings growing within her for this man were already threatening to eclipse those she had once had for Drogo. With Drogo the love had grown over a great deal of time; with Snow, there was a connection from the outset.

"Khaleesi!" Ser Jorah's concerned voice announced. "A rider approaches!" Jorah turned to call out to the Dothraki to intercept the quickly approaching rider.

"Wait!" Jon called back before an order could be issued. He was studying the rider intently, an excellent rider, expertly racing the creature over the snow, the seemingly small frame blending into the horse to the point where he seemed an extension of the animal. Snow suddenly shot forward as well, racing out to meet the rider. Not knowing why, Dany felt compelled to follow him, and set out in a gallop behind him.

"Your Grace, wait!" Jorah called out as he too set off after them. Daenerys watched Jon pulling ahead of her, only realizing now that he too was an expert on horseback, perhaps on par with the Dothraki, and in this frozen environment, superior to the horse lords of the Dothraki Sea. Jon and the unknown rider closed upon one another and both barely slowed their mounts down before expertly leaping to the ice below and finished their race toward one another at a sprint. Dany relaxed slightly as no weapons were being drawn, but was still apprehensive at not knowing what was happening. She finally found a sense of ease as she witnessed Jon bracing himself and the smaller individual launching into his arms, each of them wrapping the other in a tight embrace and falling to the ground.

Daenerys slowed, Ser Jorah catching her and coming to a trot beside her as they slowly approached Jon Snow and whoever it was he was hugging. For only a moment Dany felt jealousy coursing through her, but she immediately realized that this would have to be a sibling, and unlike Targaryens…and the occasional Lannister, Starks didn't enter into romantic relationships with their siblings. She drew upon the pair and looked down at them, tears on their cheeks and Jon kissing the forehead of a girl that looked very much like him. "I feared you were dead." She heard him whisper.

"Knowing you were alive and out there was the only thing keeping me…me." The child replied back through tears. "By the gods, I never thought I'd cry again." Dany watched their reunion, and a different sort of jealousy entered into her, but it lacked any sort of resentment, and only increased what she felt for the Northern bastard. This is what her older brother should have been like to her, this girl's feelings for him is what she should have felt for Viserys, not constant fear, not eternal obligation, not intimidation. No, this child, one almost a woman, felt nothing but love and devotion to her older brother, and based on what she'd seen of Snow, both now and in the prior months, such feelings were well deserved. The child's dark eyes finally pried away from her brother and met Dany's, her own eyes now wet with tears much to Dany's embarrassment.

"Your Grace," Jon stated almost laughingly, "may I introduce my sister, Arya Stark."

"I saw your dragons." The child…young woman really, showed no intimidation, and only a trace of sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear about the one you lost."

Jon looked up at Dany, his eyes still wet with the tears shed joyfully just a moment before, but now showing sadness and concern, and an attempt at comfort for Dany. "Perhaps we should get everyone inside."

"Perhaps you should warn her about Ghost." Arya chuckled.

Jon smiled up at Daenerys. "She's been made aware of ghost."

Three-Eyed Raven

He watched them funneling through the gates, even now, as far removed from Brandon Stark as he was, he still felt a swell in his chest at seeing Jon riding into their home chattering away with Arya next to him. On the other side of Jon was the Dragon Queen, the Valerian traits as present in her as they were in her brother, Jon's father. The vision of Rhaegar's wedding to Lyanna was still fresh in his mind, as was Jon's, or rather Aegon's birth. Jon looked up to the catwalk where Bran had parked his rolling chair and beamed at seeing him. Bran returned the smile, thinking he would have to force it, but realizing there was no effort involved after all. It seemed Brandon Stark was not removed after all, merely subdued. Out beyond the walls of Winterfell he could see the armies of the Dragon Queen setting up tent near those of the soldiers of the North. "Please return me to the Great Hall."

"Of course my lo…err, of course Brandon." Maester Wolkan replied and maneuvered the chair back inside. Moments later he was rolling into the Great Hall, toward the only other non-servant there. Seated at one of the side tables was Samwell Tarly, staring angrily at the top of the table in front of him, one covered in parchments. "I had thought you would be outside to greet the King, Lord Tarly."

"Do not call me that." Samwell angrily grumbled, turning his gaze toward them to reveal red eyes. "Death hasn't come for me yet to relieve me of my vows."

"My apologies, Samwell." Wolkan replied, his gaze falling on the documents, eliciting a suspicious look of his own.

"Please leave us, Maester." Bran asked, causing Wolkan to nod, bow, turn and leave. Bran then peered knowingly at the Black Brother.

Samwell lowered his gaze back to the table. "I was out there, watching them return, and I saw him there, riding next to her. They were smiling, friendly…frankly, they seemed more than just friendly."

"They have been intimate." Bran replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "It will actually help us."

"She murdered my father and brother!" Samwell spat. "You'll forgive me if I fail to rally behind this royal courtship." He then turned and peered intently at Bran. "And just because she took him as a lover doesn't mean she won't eliminate the threat he poses. I understand killing my father, he would pose a threat to her, but Dickon was barely more than a boy. And whatever threat either of them may have posed was nothing compared to the threat a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen would be to her ascension to the throne."

"So much of her motivation is based on her genuine belief that she has a legitimate right to rule the Seven Kingdoms." Bran replied. "She believes she is only taking what is rightfully hers. If she can be convinced Jon is Rhaegar's trueborn son, her conviction will force her to leave him unharmed, and possibly even offer him the throne. If she's not convinced, she would only be concerned if she felt Jon was truly interested in claiming the Iron Throne."

Sam chuckled. "If she knows him at all, then she'll realize that there's no danger of that." The sound of the approaching crowd ended their debate and forced them to turn toward the doors. "I'm torn. Part of me wants to rush out and greet Jon, and part of me wants to draw my sword and cut Daenerys in half."

"Only the first option is valid." Bran replied as Sansa, Jon, Daenerys, Tyrion Lannister and Davos Seaworth entered the hall, with throngs of lords, ladies, advisors and guards following after them.

"Bran…Sam!" Jon ran to the two of them and hugged them both together, pulling Sam down due to Bran being in a chair. He then looked deeply into Bran's eyes. "I wish I could have been here when you woke. And later when you needed me."

"Everything that's happened has been for a reason…Jon." Bran replied, realizing he was about to call him Aegon.

"And Sam!" Jon stood up and beamed at his friend. "What are you doing here? You can't be a Maester already."

"Not exactly." Sam muttered as they embraced again.

"Samwell Tarly?" The voice called out through the crowd and Sam looked up to see where it had come from.

"Ser Jorah!" Sam smiled and extended a hand to the approaching knight. "It's good to see you again. No sign of recurrence I trust?"

"Healthy as an aurochs." Jorah replied.

"Tarly?" The sweet feminine voice cut Samwell to the bone. He knew it was coming, but it affected him none the less.

Samwell peered ahead as both Jon and Jorah parted to give the Dragon Queen a clear view of the Black Brother, a look of concern on her face. "Yes, your Grace, Samwell Tarly, son of Randall Tarly and brother of Dickon Tarly. I hear that you've already met them." The tone was hard, but not threatening.

Daenerys steadied herself and her resolve returned to her face. "I offered them a choice, a fair choice. They chose their fate."

"I could accept that answer were it just my father." Samwell grumbled. "But Dickon…you should have found another way. He was barely more than a boy, the last of his line, and you chose one of the most horrific ways to murder him imaginable."

"There were younger men killed on both sides of the battle lines than your brother." Daenerys growled. "He was urged by not just me, by not just my Hand, but by your own father to bend the knee, and he chose to die. And unless I'm mistaken, he was not the last of his line." She peered heatedly at Samwell. "If you're not careful, perhaps I will end that line."

"Enough!" Jon snarled to the both of them before turning first to Sam. "It was a battle, they aligned themselves with Cercei. I wasn't there, but having executed enemies myself, I can't say I am opposed to what she did. Perhaps I wouldn't have burned them alive, but I hung Ollie, and he was younger than Dickon. I'm sorry for your loss Sam, I truly am, but if I can find a way to work with Cercei, you can find a way to work with Daenerys." Jon then turned on Dany. "And queen or not, you will not threaten to kill my friends in my home for showing displeasure in the execution of loved ones. I may have bent the knee to you, but he's offered you no threat and he's under my protection. He's just angry to have heard his family was killed in war; I'm sure you can empathize with that." She turned her gaze toward him, as if shocked that he would challenge her in front of others. Almost as a way of smoothing things over, Jon continued. "Right now, you and Sam are the most important soldiers in our war against the White Walkers. We all need the two of you to find a way to work together."

"Right!" Tyrion Lannister announced as he strode to the table, an attempt to break the tension and end the brewing hostilities by running with the subject change. "These parchments look promising, perhaps something on the Long Night? Some other suggestions than just dragon glass?" The dwarf reached up and pulled a parchment down to look upon. "Ahh, Maynard, I remember him. He was High Septon when I was a boy and my father was Hand. Caused quite the scandal by keeping his na…" Tyrion's eyes stretched wide as something on the parchment caught his attention.

Samwell reached over and grabbed the parchment from Tyrion. "Oh, sorry my lord, but those weren't meant to be seen yet."

Tyrion turned to Daenerys, a look of concern on his face. "My Queen, we must talk."

Dany looked down quizzically. "What is it?" She then turned to Samwell. "What was on that parchment?"

"Nothing of any concern, your Grace." Samwell stuttered out unconvincingly.

Dany took a hard look. "You will give me that document."

"I will not." Sam replied quietly but adamantly.

"Sam, give her the document." Jon instructed. Sam shook his head, staring imploringly at his best friend. "Sam, I'm ordering you to give her the document."

Dany looked back at Tyrion. "What did you see?"

Tyrion stared at Samwell. "Tarly, I suggest you give your rightful Queen the parchment. I don't see how a royal annulment issued before you were born can be any threat to you."

"Royal annulment?" Varys asked, dumbfounded. By this point the various entourages had gathered around, and he had emerged through a group of the Queen's followers.

"I suggest we discuss this matter in the solar." Bran stated.

Gendry

Davos had suggested that he seek out the Winterfell smith upon arrival, that the man would likely be able to set him up with better quarters than the tents the rank and file would have to dwell in outside the walls. Upon mentioning that he had apprenticed under Tobho Mott, or rather, upon convincing the head smith he had apprenticed under Tobho Mott, Gendry had been ushered in as if he were some sort of nobility…which he kind of was, but he, Jon and Davos had all agreed that it would be best to keep quiet about that until Jon could get a good read on Queen Daenerys's reaction to having the son of the man that ended her father's reign and killed her brother around.

He had tossed his small bundle of clothes and other possessions on the cot they'd given him and was leaning his hammer in the corner of the small shed that would serve as his room when a familiar voice caught him off guard. "I had considered going into the Great Hall with the rest of them," Gendry turned to see Arya's smiling face, "when I overheard one of the apprentices mention something about the King in the North returning with someone claiming to have trained under Tobho Mott." Gendry stepped away from his hammer and Arya ran and jumped into his arms. "I was so scared you'd been killed. What happened?"

Gendry shrugged. He had been expecting the reunion, despite not mentioning his friendship with Arya to Jon. He wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't told Jon, likely as not to add a distraction for the King that didn't need to exist, and after the initial meeting and discussion regarding having met each other's father, it seemed out of place to bring it up later. But ultimately it didn't really matter, Jon Snow didn't seem the type to be bothered by such an oversight. "The red witch brought me to Stannis Baratheon, sucked out some of my blood with leaches, she was going to sacrifice me, but Davos sprung me an put me on a boat."

"The cunt!" Arya snarled. She then looked up at Gendry almost apologetically. "I'm still not sure I can bring myself to kill her anymore though."

"Because she restored Jon?" Gendry asked, already knowing that was the answer even before the nod. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you." He chuckled.

"Why did they want you? What makes your blood so special?" Arya asked.

Gendry leaned toward the door, verified no one was around, and guided her further into the tiny room. "Jon suggested I not spread this around, but, well, it's you, and there's nobody I trust more than you." He noted the slight flush in her cheeks. "Anyway, turns out I'm not as out of place around you highborn as I once thought."

"What?"

"Robert Baratheon was my father." He smiled at her look of surprise and just shrugged. "I may not have a king's name, but I guess I have his blood, and they needed king's blood for their magic or something."

She stared quietly for a moment. "Stannis was going to let her kill you? You were his nephew."

He nodded sadly. "Not so surprising. Jon mentioned he'd had his daughter killed."

"Monster." Arya snarled under her breath. "I'm glad Brienne killed him." She then looked up. "So you're the son of King Robert?"

"Bastard son." Gendry replied.

"Jon's a bastard, and he's King in the North now." Arya replied, but paused and shrugged. "Well, at least he was."

"Oh, well, based on that, I'll just stake my claim to the Iron Throne," he joked, "I'm sure the silver haired woman with two giant dragons won't take issue with that."

"Hmmm, well, the Dragon Queen seems nice enough." She looked up and continued at seeing a small nod from her long lost friend. "Jon seems to like her. We'll keep your parentage a secret, but there's no need for you to hide around here." She grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's see what's going on in the Great Hall. Your blood is as noble as anyone else's in there."

"My mother was still just a tavern wench." Gendry replied.

"Jon's might have been too for all I know." Arya shot back as she pulled him out the door. The two of them reached the Great Hall to find numerous lords, guards and advisors milling around, but all the Starks and Queen Daenerys's chief advisors had vanished. "Where'd everyone go?"

A large, self-important looking man stepped forward and replied. "My lady, the Queen, King Jon, your sister, your brother, Samwell Tarly and several of their advisors retreated to the solar to discuss a personal matter."

"Oh, thank you Lord Royce." Arya replied before nodding to Gendry and heading off to her father's old study. Arya pushed the door open, only to have the doorway immediately filled by Ser Jorah.

Jorah smiled at the lad but shook his head negatively as is to send him away, then looked down at Arya and faltered slightly. He turned to the Queen, who smiled at Arya and nodded. "It's her home. If Lords Stark and Tarly are amenable to her presence, I certainly don't have an objection."

"Neither of us consider ourselves to be lords of our ancestral seats," a boy seated in a chair with two large wheels stated, "but yes, Arya is to be present for this." Arya reached down and grabbed Gendry's hand, pulling him in, looking at the seated boy almost to threaten him to object. The boy smiled and nodded. "Nor do I have an objection to the natural born son of Robert Baratheon being here."

"What?" Daenerys and Tyrion questioned loudly. Tyrion stepped forward and peered closely at the boy's face. "Of course, how could I not have seen it before?"

"You've brought the son of the usurper in my presence?" Daenerys snarled.

"Aye, I did." Jon stated. "He was forthright with me from the moment we met, he offered his services, he bravely trekked with us beyond the wall to capture a Wight, and I have seen nothing to suggest he has any interest in making any claim's based on his father's status." He looked down and took interest in the clasped hands of Arya and Gendry. "Though I am curious as to how you and Arya became such fast friends."

"We shared the road out of King's Landing." Gendry said. "We were on our way north to take the Black, or at least I was. She'd had her hair cut short and was pretending to be a boy on his way to Castle Black, but, well, we got waylaid. I'll tell you all about it later."

"Aye, you will." Jon then turned back to Dany. "My Queen, someone once said something about not being responsible for the sins of their father…"

"No, but this deception seems to be a sin conducted by the both of you, not your fathers." Daenerys replied coolly. She then stared Gendry up and down. "But he has served us well, and I have not seen anything from him to indicate that he is a threat."

"I only wish to work the forge here at Winterfell, my la…Queen." Gendry replied.

"So be it." Dany then turned back to Varys. "So is it authentic?"

"It does appear to be written in Maynard's hand. The parchment and ink seemed aged appropriately." He stated as Tyrion returned to his side to study the document with him.

"What's going on?" Arya asked.

A tall, beautiful redhead remained staring at the document being studied on the desk as she answered. "One of the documents Samwell brought from the Citadel claims that Prince Rhaegar had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled, and that he got remarried in Dorne…to Aunt Lyanna."

"What?" Arya gasped. "Married? He kidnapped her! He raped her!"

"He did not." Varys stated. "I was unaware of the annulment and marriage, but your aunt and Prince Rhaegar were very much in love." The eunuch shrugged. "I had seen my share of extra-marital affairs, especially among royalty and nobility, and thought nothing of it. I would have tried to convince your uncle Brandon of that, but by the time I got to the throne room Aerys was already worked into a frenzy and would not have his chosen course of action altered."

"You're lying!" Arya hissed. "You're a well-known liar, Spider!"

"He's not." The boy in the chair stated, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

"Assuming this is true," Daenerys interrupted, "why the secrecy, and ultimately, why does it matter?"

A fat man in Knights Watch black nervously looked to the boy in the chair. He then turned to Daenerys. "Your Grace," he stammered out nervously, "I must ask a question. A…a hypothetical question."

"I'm not interested in answering hypothetical questions, Samwell Tarly." Daenerys was losing her patience.

"Please your Grace, I swear to you that this is pertinent." The fat man named Samwell replied. He waited a moment for the Queen to nod before continuing. "Should one of Rhaegar's children have survived, would you see them as a threat to your rule, and if so, would you remove such a threat?"

Daenerys was stunned by the question, as was everyone else, but it was Varys that spoke. "I saw the corpses of Rhaegar's children. Believe me, neither of them survived."

"My dear spider," Tyrion chimed in, looking at Samwell with tremendous interest and skepticism, "in light of this parchment we're scrutinizing, I'm inclined to believe young Tarly here may be referring to a third child. A child with a Stark mother."

Jon gave a lone skeptical chuckle, looking hard at the boy in the chair. "You're suggesting that we have a cousin, Bran?"

Bran looked up at Jon, his face now as before completely devoid of emotion. "You have five cousins, Jon, three of which are still alive."

The solar was absolutely silent for nearly a minute, and it took nearly that entire time for Gendry to realize his hand was being crushed. "Liar." Arya hissed. Her gaze was locked on to Samwell Tarly. "You fucking liar! He's my brother!" In a heartbeat his squeezed hand was released and Needle was out. She stalked toward the fat black brother while the rest of the room scrambled away from her and took defensive positions.

Only King Jon stepped in her way, blocking her from Samwell. "Arya, what are you doing? Put that away!"

Arya lowered her blade and looked imploringly up at her brother…cousin…whatever he was. "It's not true, Jon. You're my brother. You don't believe it, do you?" She was pleading.

"Of course not." Jon replied, stepping forward and hugging her.

"Swear to me, swear that you're my brother!" She pled as a sob broke free of her throat. "Swear it, swear that you're my brother and that you'll always be my brother!"

"Of course little sister." Jon replied. "I've been your brother your whole life, and I swear I'll be your brother for the rest of mine."

"Be my brother for the rest of my life Jon!" She sobbed.

He pulled her back and looked at her intently, but smiled. "Can't do that. I can only be anything for as long as I'm alive, and I command that you outlive me little sister."

"Thank you." She wrapped him up again, letting Needle clang to the floor. "I love you Jon."

"I love you too sister." Jon replied.

"His name is Aegon." Bran's voice cut through the room like a blade. "We will always regard him as a brother, he will always regard us as siblings, but the fact is that he is our cousin. The legally trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, Aegon Targaryen."

"Shut up, Bran!" Arya yelled. "You're broken!" She pointed at Samwell Tarly. "And he is using that fact as a way to get back at Daenerys for killing his father and brother!"

"I would never use Jon in such a way!" Samwell snapped back, he was respectful but would not allow such slander to go unchallenged. He could not pinpoint when it happened, but the craven had died some time ago and he would never be cowed into not standing up for himself or the truth again.

"Arya," Bran drew her attention back to himself, "I witnessed Aunt Lyanna handing Jon off to father from the birthing bed long before Samwell arrived at Winterfell. I witnessed father take him into his arms, I witnessed Lyanna tell father his name was Aegon, I witnessed Lyanna beg him to keep her child safe, I witnessed father make a vow to raise him and protect him from Robert's wrath, I watched Lyanna pass away from injuries sustained from the birthing. I saw all this, more than once, and I witnessed the marriage. Samwell only later brought documentation of an annulment and the marriage that seemed irrelevant to him until I shared what I already knew with him."

"This is fascinating," Tyrion chimed in, "beyond fascinating actually. And it's not altogether implausible. The motivation for Lord Eddard to create such a deception is clearly there, especially given the way he railed against what my father's agents did to Rhaegar's known children and Robert's sanction of the act. And the documents provided by Samwell Tarly seem authentic upon first glance. But you cannot expect us to believe such a tremendous theory with no living witnesses, can you?"

"There is a witness to Jon being Lyanna's child, and he is in route to us now." Bran replied, then looked to Sansa. "We need to make preparations for Lord Reed and two thousand Cranogmen. I expect them to be here in the morning. And prepare another room for his daughter and another highborn guest as well. The Reeds are bringing a friend."

"Lord Reed?" Tyrion asked. "Howland Reed? I didn't know he was still alive."

"He rode south with my father, Martyn Cassell, Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover and Theo Wull." Jon muttered, his gaze glazed over as his mind seemed thousands of miles away. "Of them, only father, Lord Reed and Aunt Lyanna's bones ever left Dorne. He later collected me, provided Robert Baratheon news of Lyanna's death, and continued north."

"It appears that you had already been collected before leaving Dorne." Daenerys stated, shocking everyone.

Jon raised his stunned eyes to Daenerys. "You cannot believe this, your Grace. The only truths that I have ever known are that I am a bastard, and that Lord Eddard Stark was my father."

"Your Grace, listen to Jon," Tyrion chimed in, but was interrupted before he could continue.

"King Jon!" Arya snapped.

"I've bent the knee, Arya." Jon replied.

"Perhaps that was a mistake." Samwell stated. "Queen Daenerys achieved the impossible through magic, you achieved the impossible through leadership. Magic is of tremendous value to a conqueror, not so much to a monarch. An effective monarch's power should come from leadership."

"She has both, Sam!" Jon objected. "I did not bend the knee because Queen Daenerys has dragons, can walk through fire, has two armies, or a royal name, I did it because she deserves to be our rightful queen. Her miracles get your attention, but it's her words and actions that earn your loyalty. You only need to give her time to prove it to you."

"I'm well aware of some of her actions." Sam said angrily, but softened. "I've heard of things she's done that are admirable, Maester Aemon was certainly impressed with stories of her deeds in his final days, but she's done things that I know you wouldn't do, and if you wouldn't do them, then they're the wrong things to be doing."

"I've put men to death Sam!" Jon snapped, shook his head and turned and looked to everyone in the room, before finally setting his gaze on Daenerys. "My Queen, I suggest that everyone in this room be sworn to secrecy regarding this theory regarding my origin and any documentation related to it. And let it be known that I have no interest whatsoever in the Iron Throne." He nodded as Daenerys graced him with a wide and genuine smile. "Truth be told, I have no interest in ever setting foot south of the Neck again." Jon continued, spreading his gaze to the others in the solar and missing Queen Daenerys's smile fading and a look of quiet objection coming over her face. Jon turned back to her, seeing her expression and mistaking it for a look of solemnity. "Once again I pledge myself to your rule, my Queen," Jon knelt, "and whether my name is Snow, Stark, Sand, or Targaryen changes that not at all."

Jon

Unlike Dany's dragons, Ghost had reached his full size some time ago, but it didn't seem that way as the dire wolf continued to press his massive frame against Jon's lap demanding attention. Jon sat under the Heart Tree of Winterfell as he vigorously rubbed his wolf's coat. "So this is the infamous Ghost." The beautiful voice cut through the evening darkness, but though Jon hadn't been expecting company, he was not startled.

"Not as big as one of your children, but he can still be a handful at times." Jon stated as he turned and looked up at her. Ghost rolled off of Jon and sprung to his feet, trotting over to Daenerys to sniff her. He gently licked her palms and then rubbed himself against her flank, nearly knocking her down but eliciting a laugh from the Queen. "Ghost, behave." Jon laughingly scolded.

Dany walked over and sat down next to Jon, taking in the carved face of the tree behind him. "It appears we're liked by each other's children." She stated almost absently.

"Aye." Jon replied. "Ghost can be a bit shy at times, but ultimately he's a softy to anyone not trying to kill me."

"Drogon's not a softy to anyone." Dany said, staring at the surface of the reflecting pool. "He tolerates others, but he doesn't soften for anyone." She looked up and locked her eyes onto his. "Anyone but you. I felt him purring as you pet him. I landed him and stalked him toward you to intimidate you into bending the knee."

"I remember, it almost worked." Jon chuckled.

"But he covered his teeth and purred at your touch." Dany said, ignoring Jon's attempt at levity. "We both know your father was Rhaegar Targaryen."

Jon shook his head. "It's a fanciful story, but I am not like you." Jon pulled off his glove and held up his scarred right hand for her to see. "You walked out of a funeral pyre unharmed, you created a conflagration in the Dothraki capital and marched through it without a scratch," Jon shrugged and wiggled his fingers over the melted skin "I grabbed a lantern." He smiled and pulled Ghost, who had been rubbing against him, into a rough hug. "As for Drogon, animals have always liked me."

Dany smiled. "Tell me again about those scars on your face?"

Jon let out a genuine laugh. "Twas the Wildling warg that hated me, not the raptor."

Dany shrugged. "I don't have answers for all the peculiarities Jon, but I feel a connection to you that I've never felt, and I see an affinity with Drogon, and likely Rhaegal as well, that I've not seen in another person." She leaned forward and kissed him. "You may not be a dragon, but you are the blood of the dragon." She leaned back and sighed. "And your friend Sam was right. I would have burned Kings Landing to the ground were you not on the beach with me that day. My advisors wanted what you wanted, but you found a way to get through to me when they could not. I'm not my father, but I cannot deny that there are times I feel his influence. Perhaps the Stark blood that waters down your magical traits also allows for more measured behavior. I cannot deny that you are the better, more reasonable leader."

"Your Grace, there are moments I feel overwhelmed, decisions I make that are wrong, that are dangerous." Jon replied. "I committed thousands of men to a hopeless battle, a battle that we could not have won and that we didn't win. Fortunately my sister was there to recognize my folly and in a position to save my ass and the asses of my troops."

Daenerys smiled. "Sansa is quite an adept leader. She would make an excellent Wardeness of the North."

"Aye, that she would." Jon smiled. "You changing your mind about giving me the job?"

"I'm thinking you may be better suited elsewhere." She looked down at the pond, smiling slyly. She then looked up and delivered a serious stare. "You are the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, your claim to the throne is absolute. I don't need to wait for Howland Reed to tell me Eddard Stark walked out of that tower in Dorne with you in his arms. I don't need to wait for Varys and Tyrion to exhaust themselves scrutinizing that paperwork just to tell me days later that they can't find any sign of forgery or hoax. I know now that your brother…your cousin, spoke truly." Her face twisted slightly as confusion came over her. "Do you honestly think that Brandon would lie to you? You knew exactly where to find the Wights because of his visions. Are you truly ready to call him a liar?"

"Of course not." Jon replied. "But even before making it to the Winterfell gates, Arya told me he was different, that he seemed damaged or broken, and not just his legs. Of course, she did say that he had visions that were accurate, but, it just seemed completely impossible to me. I mean, I know wargs, I've seen them, so Bran slipping into a raven and seeing what it sees, that makes sense to me…or at least it's something I know to be possible. But seeing things that happened years ago as though he were right there, that's harder to believe."

"I understand." Dany said, watching Jon lean back against the tree and cast his gaze skyward. "It's a lot to take in. But ultimately, has Brandon Stark ever given you any reason to doubt his word?"

Jon was silent for a moment. "No." He closed his eyes and sat quietly for a few moments before continuing. "I just…I love being the son of Eddard Stark. He was the best man I've ever known. The only stain on his character was me, and now that stain is removed, but at the price of my right to call myself his son, and that hurts. And it hurts knowing one grandfather tortured and murdered my other grandfather. It hurts knowing that my parents' love started a war that resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands, and resulted in Joffrey and Cercei ruling the realm, leading to the deaths of the man I called father, and two I called brother, one my closest and most beloved friend, the other a child I never got to really know but loved anyway. It hurts knowing my father created tension in his marriage, to a woman who loved him and their children completely, just to protect me. And it hurts…" he looked sorrowfully at Dany, "it hurts knowing my mother died to have me."

A tear rolled down Dany's cheek. "I know that hurt."

"I know you do, and I'm sorry for re-opening that wound." He said sorrowfully. "I've always known it was a possibility for me, but it was never a certainty. Now…now it's a certainty. I knew how much father loved his sister, and throughout my life that just made me hate your brother all the more for kidnapping her and causing her death. But now I know…now I know. They were in love, they eloped, and I'm the one to have killed father's beloved sister."

Dany leaned in and hugged him tightly. "Neither of us are to blame for what happened to our mothers. You must know that." She leaned back and looked at him earnestly. "There is only one person in the Seven Kingdoms that puts the blame for a woman dying in childbirth on the infant, and you are not Cercei Lannister! So remove that burden from your shoulders, your Queen commands it!"

They both shared a weak chuckle. "I thought you were here to convince me to take the throne, and now you're issuing me commands. You're a hard one to figure out, Daenerys Stormborn, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Kaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Sailer of Ships, Rider of Lizards, Wearer of Silver Broaches, yada yada yada. I'm sure I missed a few in there."

Dany playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "We all can't have the silver tongue of Ser Davos Seaworth to announce us."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to follow you to King's Landing." Jon smirked and continued in a poor impersonation of Davos. "This is Daenerys Targaryen…she's the Queen." They both chuckled, but Dany stopped quickly and Jon followed suit as he saw a sad look come over Dany.

"I'd rather he follow you to King's Landing." She replied.

"Dany, you are the one destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms." Jon asserted.

"Perhaps we both are." She looked at him imploringly.

Jon chuckled and looked off into the distance. "Was that supposed to be a marriage proposal, my Queen?"

"A strictly political match." Dany quipped.

"Of course." Jon smiled. "But I'm of the North. I belong here."

"How do you know?" Daenerys shot back. "What do you know of the lands south of the Neck? The few months you spent as a pseudo-prisoner on Dragonstone? The day in King's Landing negotiating with people you despise? These qualify you to judge where you belong? You think you're of the North because you know nothing else."

"Stark men don't do well south of the Neck." Jon replied.

"You're not a Stark. You're not a Snow, and you never have been." Dany replied firmly.

Jon sighed. "Why are we even discussing this?" He looked off into the distance again. "Eastwatch has fallen, the Wall has been breached, the dead march toward us, and now, thanks to me, the Night King is mounted on Viserion. We'll be lucky to live out the week."

"We will win, Jon." Dany replied. "We have the dragon glass, we have my two dragons, we have Bran's third eye, Samwell Tarly's books, and you and I to lead us. In the morning you will mount Rhaegar, appropriate as he is named after your father. You will mount him, and we will lead our people to victory over death. Then we will lead them to victory over Cercei. And then…" a stunned look came over Dany.

"What?" Jon was worried. "Dany? Queen Daenerys, are you alright?"

Dany looked up and met Jon's gaze with sad eyes. "And then we will take King's Landing, Lord Reed will present his testimony as to your parentage, Lord Tarly will present the documentation regarding the marriage of your parents, your identity will be confirmed, and you and I will be crowned joint rulers of the Seven Kingdoms…and soon after we will find you a proper wife, one that can bear you heirs."

Jon stared dumbfounded at Dany for a moment, but then grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. "With respect, your Grace, fuck that plan. There is only one reason I'd consider dragging my frozen, northern ass to that stinking southern shithole, and it's not for you to find me some proper wife." She pulled back and looked at him in disbelief. "I've never had any interest in ruling anything Dany. I was elected Lord Commander of the Knights' Watch before I had come to terms with being nominated. I accepted the role of King in the North because only someone who'd fought the White Walkers could effectively lead our people. And I won't even consider going south and living in a keep where my father's head was once mounted on a spike unless I'm there with you." He looked earnestly at her. "Our time together, at least for me…it's been more than just desire. I had a woman, I thought that I loved her, perhaps I did, but it is less than what I feel for you." He looked down. "I don't presume to know what your feelings are for me, but whatever they are, know that I will not be wanting another woman in King's Landing, or anywhere else."

"But I'm barren." She whispered.

"I don't care. Do men who care about that volunteer to join the Knight's Watch?" Jon replied, then took on a grin. "We can leave the throne to Arya and her heirs when we die."

Dany quietly stared at Jon for a few moments before letting loose with a loud laugh. "Yes, let me prepare an invasion for years, lead dragons and armies across the sea, fight wars against the living and dead, only to leave the Iron Throne in the hands of the Baratheons again!"

Jon looked at her quizzically. "What?"

A broad grin spread over Dany's face. "Aegon Jon Targaryen, you will not be allowed to be this stupid once we're the unquestioned rulers of Westeros." With that she stood up. "Now come with me to bed. I know not what the future holds for us, but tonight I wish to be conquered by the King in the North."

The Three Eyed Raven

It was dawn when he instructed the guards to open the gates, Maester Wolkan standing just behind him as usual. A hooded man and woman, both on foot and flanking an armored man on horseback were standing waiting to be let in. A second mounted man in armor stood behind them in the distance, and was being held from going any further by Winterfell guards. The front three guests proceeded through the gate and into Winterfell, while the fourth visitor remained with the guards, his red and gold armor would make him easy to identify as Jaime Lannister even were his face not exposed and clearly visible.

Bran looked to the other mounted man, who was coming to a stop with his companions that were on foot. His armor had an engraving of a sword with a shooting star behind it etched onto the breast plate. The woman removed her hood, revealing the face of Meera Reed, looking less gaunt and more well rested than Bran had last seen her. She ran ahead and embraced Bran. "It's wonderful to see you again Bran."

"It's great to see you as well, Meera. Thank you for coming." Bran replied, the feeling more genuine than he thought it would be.

"Greywater will always stand with Winterfell." The hooded man said as he removed his cowl and approached while the younger man in armor dismounted and pulled a long object wrapped in a brown cloth from the side pouch of his horse and followed after the older man.

The smaller man was more than two decades older than when Bran had seen him in his visions, but Howland Reed was easily recognizable to the boy. "Lord Reed, it is good to finally meet you."

"It's an honor, Brandon." Lord Reed bowed. "The Three-Eyed Raven, the greatest Greenseer in generations." He smiled at the boy. "I look forward to fighting at your side as I once fought at your father's." Bran turned to look at the third person. Howland Reed nodded and made the introduction. "May I present Edric Dayne, Lord of Starfall. He's traveled the length of the continent to do his part against the great enemy."

Brandon nodded. "Lord Dayne, I saw your uncle in battle. He was the greatest warrior I've ever seen. An unparalleled swordsman."

The young Lord Dayne looked stunned. "My uncle? Arthur?"

"The Sword of the Morning." Bran clarified.

"He died long before either of us was born." Edric replied skeptically.

Bran smiled and then turned to the maester behind him. "Please instruct the guards to permit Ser Jaime entry."

"My lord, are you sure?" Wolkan asked in disbelief.

"I am." Bran replied. "He means us no harm." Wolkan gave a long hard look at Bran's legs, as if to drive home a point. Bran nodded. "I assure you, he means no harm."

The maester set off to do Bran's bidding, and a moment later Jaime Lannister was dismounted and approaching them. Terror shot through his eyes as he looked down on Bran in his chair. Jaime froze. A lifetime ago a different Jaime Lannister had arrived at Winterfell, supremely confident, indifferent to anyone not of his House, and only then only his father and siblings were worth any attention. He did as he liked, a lion cared not about the opinions or well-being of the sheep…or of wolves. A lifetime ago a wolf pup posed a threat to a lion, and the lion acted to remove that threat without hesitation. That different Jaime Lannister was absolutely certain that it was the right of the lion to do so. That Jaime Lannister had been dying since losing his hand; but only at abandoning Cercei to come north to fight this greatest of enemies had he finally died. But though a different man now, Ser Jaime of House Lannister was still accountable for the sins of his former self. At least that was Bran's assessment of the man's thoughts and feelings; he could hear the words said through the years, and see the actions, but estimating a person's thoughts was just guesswork based on his observations. Despite that, he knew he was right about Jaime. The Three Eyed Raven had far more important things to focus on, but Bran could not help himself from watching the progress of the Lannister twins in the years since that fateful day. Cercei was incapable of redemption; Jaime however… "Welcome back to Winterfell, Ser Jaime."

"Brand…Lord Stark," Jaime dropped to his knees, "I…" his gaze lowered to the snow covered ground, "I submit myself to your judgment for the crime I committed against you. I only ask that whatever punishment you deem appropriate for throwing you from that tower be enacted after I've done my part against the army of the dead." He looked up and met Bran's eyes, whispering. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

"Rise Ser Jaime." Bran said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Know that it was the injury you caused that prompted the opening of my third eye, thus enabling me to serve the cause we currently fight for. That does not justify your action, nor does it have any bearing on the evil motivation that drove you to commit that action, but you are no longer the man you were, and it seems that everything that has happened has done so for a reason. You are welcome here, any that choose to claim otherwise need only speak with me."

"I regret to inform you that Queen Cercei had a change of heart regarding her commitment to the war against the dead." Jaime sorrowfully stated. "I come to you with only myself and my man Bronn."

"Lord Hand Tyrion will be pleased to have Bronn back at his side." Bran smiled and then turned back to Lord Dayne and the Reeds. "Thank you for waiting. I did not want to keep Ser Jaime waiting outside in the cold for too long."

"It is no trouble, my lord." Lord Dayne bowed and then presented the item wrapped in the cloth, unwrapping the top to reveal the pommel, handle and hilt of a longsword, a gold-colored etching of the sun and rays on the pommel. "I was knighted, but I'm no Sword of the Morning."

"By the gods." Jaime gasped as he looked upon the sword. "I thought it was lost."

Edric glanced up at Jaime, but quickly returned his gaze to Bran. "It seems the Age of Heroes has returned. Perhaps there is one worthy of being the new Sword of the Morning here in the far north."

"Another magic sword." Jaime chuckled, earning him a heated glance from Lord Dayne. "I mean no disrespect, Lord Dayne, your uncle was one of the two greatest warriors I've ever known, and that sword is as astounding and deadly as any Valyrian steel weapon I've ever seen, but I remember Stannis's red witch touting him as the rightful king because his flaming sword was the reincarnation of the fire blade wielded by her…Razor Ahee."

"Azor Ahai." Maester Wolkan corrected.

"Yes, that was it." Jamie smiled at the maester before turning to Lord Dayne. "So we are to believe that Stannis's blade was a forgery, and that Dawn is the new Lightbringer?"

Edric smiled and stood up, standing almost as tall as Jaime, his pale blond hair hanging down off to the sides of his face and his dark blue eyes peering into Jaime's green ones. "Stannis's blade WAS a forgery, but according to the legends that have been passed down in my house for thousands of years, there's nothing new about this sword being Lightbringer. It was named Dawn for a reason."

"Why not just name it Lightbringer then?" Jaime muttered.

"Perhaps they did." Bran suggested. "Whatever this was called eight thousand years ago when the falling star that made it was turned to a sword, or whatever the sword of Azor Ahai was called at that time when he wielded it to drive the White Walkers back into the Lands of Always Winter, neither Dawn nor Lightbringer were used as names. Names would have been from the tongue of the First Men, and translated into something later when you Andals brought your Common Tongue."

Jaime shrugged. "I suppose you're right, but Ser Arthur Dayne never got that sword to ignite, and if he was not worthy of bringing out Dawn's legendary magic, it's doubtful there's someone here that is."

"Perhaps we can find out." Bran suggested and then looked up at Lord Dayne. "Would you accompany me to the godswood? And please bring Dawn."

"Of course, my Lord." Edric replied and they all followed Maester Wolkan pushing Bran through Winterfell and into the godswood, the maester parking Bran next to the tree as he had been doing at least once a day since his return months before.

"Lord Dayne, could you please bring Dawn here?" Bran asked, and the Dornish lord stepped forward and lowered it before Bran. Bran reached forward but held his hand over the pommel, looking up at Lord Dayne for permission. "May I?"

"Of course my lord." Edric quickly gave his consent.

Bran touched the pommel with one hand and the weirwood with the other. In a flash he was looking upon a group, a tribe of First Men, hunter-gatherers but with stone structures and penned in aurochs, so on the cusp of early civilization, with three Children of the Forest in their midst. Though Westerosi, the humans seemed almost Dothraki in appearance and garb, the two dozen men, women and children and the three Children of the Forest were all looking up into the sky where a tremendous solar flare was putting on a display they'd never seen before. The scene cut to a shooting star, a meteor zipping down through the sky, a lone man on horseback in red mountains similar to those where the Tower of Joy had been located watches it fall and sets out after it to see where it lands. Centuries later a fortress has been built upon an island at the mouth of a great river, his view shifts to within the depths of the fortress where a stone, the meteorite that had fallen from the sky, rests on the stone floor with runes of the First Men and the Children carved on the ground around it, particularly a swirling pattern. Bran's vision immediately shifts again to see three men in that location arguing, two have the look and garb of the First Men, the third in red robes and possessing the fair skin, platinum hair and purple eyes of a Valyrian. Off to the side of them are six Children of the Forest, the arguing men speak in a language Bran cannot follow, but it is clear that the Valyrian and one of the First Men, one with a thick beard and gray eyes, are interested in the fallen meteorite, while the other First Man, clean shaven and lighter hair, seems to be worriedly trying to talk them out of whatever they have planned for it. One of the Children of the Forest step forward, a female that looks lovingly up at the bearded First Man, and says something in the old tongue to all of them, causing the apparent protector of the fallen star to hang his head dejectedly in defeat.

Once again the scene cuts away to reveal the Valyrian instructing men in placing the meteorite in a large, thick smelting oven made of obsidian bricks just outside the fortress on the island. The vision cuts to the ingots of pale metal that had been within the meteorite being retrieved. A cut to show the Valyrian working the metal, the Children of the Forest chanting magical incantations into the molten metal as the red-robed foreigner continues working it. Bran sees rune symbols forming on the metal and then melting away. The Valyrian holds the newly formed blade, Bran easily recognizing the milk glass blade of Dawn despite an entirely different handle, hilt and pommel, and after studying it, the platinum-haired smith hands the blade to the lord of the fortress, the man who had been hesitant to allow the use of the meteorite that had given rise to the sword. The lord of the fortress then turns and hands the sword to the bearded First Man to take into battle against the enemy, but they are stopped by the female Child of the Forest, who says something that greatly upsets them all, especially the bearded First Man who kneels before her and pleads against what she has just said. The female sadly kisses him and confirms whatever it is that he fears, and she walks across the yard to stand before a Heart Tree. The bearded First Man stands before her, weeping as he holds the sword pointed toward her, she smiles at him once again and says something in encouragement, before he drives the sword through her heart, out her body and into the Heart Tree. Her blood and the red tree sap mixing, and the bearded man pulls the sword free, causing it to ignite and give off tremendous light and heat.

The scene shifts once more, to forests covering the land that would one day be Castle Black, the First Man cutting great swaths of flaming destruction through the Wights, giant spiders and other beasts under thrall of the White Walkers. His blade launches flame into the ranks of the enemy, the army of the living following him with torches and blades made of obsidian. Bran sees his face now, aged many years, a great deal of gray in his hair and beard, scars crossing over his face and any other bit of exposed skin Bran can see. He fights in a rage, as do the soldiers following him, humans, Children of the Forest, and hybrids of the two species of man, all fighting their common foe. He raises his sword and lets loose a wave of fiery destruction against a dozen White Walkers, killing all but an injured Night King, who glares hatefully as he withdraws his army further north. Bran watches as the now older, bearded hero, the Last Hero Bran realizes, returns to the fortress seen before, and hands Dawn back to the lord of the island fortress. The Last Hero, now nearly crippled, is being aided by a young man, a young man who bears traits of the Last Hero and the female Child of the Forest that was sacrificed. Despite his mother being a Child of the Forest, the son is nearly as tall and broad as his father. After the father returns the sword, the son presents the sword owner with scrolls, Bran looks on as they unroll the scrolls to see designs for a vast castle to be built over the simple fortress…Starfall.

Bran once again is thrown as the vision shifts, once again seeing the milk glass of Dawn, but his view travels down to see the hilt, handle and pommel as it exists now, as it existed when wielded by Arthur Dayne, a gloved hand gripping it tightly, the sword-wielder and his mount immediately shoot away into the distance, and Bran fights through the confusion to recognize that the mount is a winged dragon, the rider now too far for him to identify, especially with the glare of the setting sun behind the dragon. Bran suddenly realizes that he is in the midst of the army of the dead, having been pushed back to the remains of Eastwatch by the Sea. He looks over to see the Night King to his right several hundred feet mounted on his own cream colored dragon, the beast standing on a small mountain made up of the icy remains of the destroyed eastern section of the Wall. Bran looks back to the west to see the sword wielder raise the blade just as the sun sets and all goes black, a fire ignites that's so bright that it almost seems as though the sun is rising back up again in the west, and the warrior directs the blade and flame forward at the army of the dead, joined by the flame from the dragon mount. Bran and the demons around him are awash in the conflagration, Bran remains unharmed, but the creatures around him are disintegrated, the mountains of ice around him are decimated, he turned to see a large portion of the Shivering Sea behind him vaporize to the point of being momentarily dry just off the coast, and as he looked at the sea he could see the fire fade off into the east and disappear.

Bran gasped, blinking and looking up into the concerned eyes of Wolkan, Meera, Howland, Jon, Daenerys and many others behind them. The sun was at the noon position, he had been submerged in the vision for hours. He looked up and smiled at Jon. "Dawn is Lightbringer. We have preparations to make."


End file.
